I have no idea what the hell I am doing writing this. I know nothing about the inner workings of our police force and this is so not the genre I normally go for...so I'm thinking it might be a total disaster. God, there are also probably loads and loads of inaccuracies too, so read through your fingers. And yes the idea is totally stolen from a cold case episode I watched a few years back (just the story line though none of the characters)...with some alterations...so I guess that makes this AU.

Cold Case - The Road

Chapter 1

Detective John Paul McQueen sat at his desk and glared through tired eyes at the half closed door that separated him from the man who was his boss, before glancing back at the endless unopened files that sat in neat piles around him. Running his hands through his hair he almost growled in frustration. It wasn't so much that he'd been called back in off the case he'd been working on for weeks that pissed him off, or that his surveillance shifts had been handed over to a colleague two years his junior, or even that he was given the mindless job of skimming through endless bits of information looking for tenuous links to help solve the crime they were investigating...Oh no, it was the way the smug bastard sat ensconced in his God-like office had done it. He was hardly Mr Sensitive at the best of times, but normally his direct, stubborn ass approach suited John Paul. He loved that he was harder on him than the others, that he pushed him to find his limits. That made him better at his job and earned him the respect of the fellow members of the team. But this was different...this was fucking embarrassing.

Slamming open a folder from the nearest pile, he tried to make himself feel better, by muttering under his breath all the names he could think of that summed up the arrogant prick he had to kowtow to, at work anyway. The fact he was aware of the amused looks coming his way from other personnel in the squad room only served to feed his growing bad temper. That and the knowledge he was probably being unreasonable...but hell being dragged back to desk duty to keep him out of trouble for a week rankled. Who did he think he was...his fucking minder? Deciding he needed a break, he kicked back his chair and rose to his feet, his tempestuous blue eyes daring anyone to make a comment.

He was half way out the room before the sound of his name being called stopped him in his tracks.

"McQueen, get your arse in here."

Shit. Taking a deep breath and trying desperately to school his features into a semblance of professional calm, he turned and stepped into the office he had just passed.

"Close the door."

Obeying the command with the unconscious grace of movement that he did everything, he shut out the rest of the world and brought his eyes back to the man leaning casually against the front of his desk.

"Have you got a problem with the job you've been assigned, McQueen?"

Biting back the sarcastic retort, he kept his voice painfully respectful. "No, sir." His body tensed as he watched the other push himself more upright, the lean whipcord strength of his limbs, making John Paul swallow nervously.

"You sure about that?" The voice was demanding but John Paul heard the hint of laughter hidden beneath and had to force himself not to react, although his shoulders stiffened even more.

"Yes, sir, completely sure." For a moment he thought he saw a softening in the eyes that had him pinned...but it was fleeting and like a mirage it fluttered away as if it had never been. Left in its place was a cool determination.

"You take too many god damn risks...and this isn't the week to do it. So suck it up for a while, yeah?"

"I'm getting engaged for God's sake, it's not exactly saving Private Ryan...sir." He laughed, the bastard actually laughed. Calling on every ounce of his training, John Paul let the sound wash over him, his only visible reaction the gathering storm clouds in his eyes.

"Maybe your future husband just wants you to turn up to the party without cuts, bruises and broken bones for once." For a split second they allowed their eyes to meet and John Paul felt his anger and frustration subside...a notch.

The shrill ringing of the phone cut through the moment as with a flick of a head towards the incident room, John Paul was dismissed. Half aware of the low tone behind him accepting the call, he was surprised when he was stopped again, as his hand reached for the door.

"I'll see you tonight...don't be late...Oh and John Paul, cut the attitude!"

Not bothering to reply, John Paul kept his eyes deliberately turned forwards as he quietly left the office, a half smile tugging at his lips. He fucking hated him.

The engagement party was in full swing, music blaring, drinks flowing freely. Craig watched in amusement as Steph floated through the crowds, video camera in hand, charmingly haranguing guests to pass on their thoughts and well wishes for the 'happy' couple, to be captured for ever on film. As her gaze passed over him he gave her a warning shake of the head which made her roll her eyes before moving on to find a different victim. Smiling, Craig settled back happily into his corner, pleased to hide away for a while.

Leaning back against the wall, Craig suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. Shifting his attention, he found himself returning the smile of the man who had appeared at his side. Seeing the drink held out to him, he mouthed his gratitude before gesturing back towards his sister.

"So dare I ask if you've had the chance to grace our video with your presence and undoubted words of wisdom yet?"

Spike gave him an innocent look. "Just told the world how you took the man of my dreams away from me...but I managed to wish you well through gritted teeth...I think."

Craig gave him an amused look in return. "Was John Paul actually ever yours for me to steal?"

"Well no." Spike breathed a tortured sigh. "But a stalker can dream, can't he?"

Craig bit back his laughter. "So now you're telling me you've been stalking my boyfriend? You do know what I do for a living right?"

"As long as you have John Paul arrest me, I'm happy. Him, me and a pair of handcuffs, Jesus the possibilities are endless!"

Shaking his head at the unwanted image that John Paul's oldest friend had planted in his mind, Craig gave an exaggerated look of horror. "You're a sick, sick man...you know that don't you..." His reply was cut short by the loud clinking of a glass that cut through the music, followed by a voice shouting across the heads of friends and family.

"Listen up...who's the Einstein that left their car lights on...Audi RV07 003...?"

Craig looked round, already knowing the answer, until his eyes came to rest on the man who had changed his life. Seeing the hand that John Paul raised in acknowledgement that the car was his and hearing the laughter that followed, made Craig determined not to let him live this down too soon. Expectantly, he waited until blue eyes swung his way. Raising his bottle, he held it towards him in a mock salute to his forgetfulness, watching as he gave a self depreciating smile back. Fuck he was beautiful. And he was his. They'd had to overcome some barriers to get here, fight prejudice at times, especially at work...but as John Paul made his way over to where he was standing Craig knew he wouldn't have changed a thing. He didn't give a fuck about others, what he wanted he went after...and he'd wanted John Paul like nothing else in his life before. He could feel the heat in his body igniting just thinking about what wanting him had lead to. For a few moments no one else in the room existed. Craig let his gaze shift, taking in the way the suit John Paul was wearing moulded itself perfectly to the toned body beneath. Feeling a familiar tightening in his groin, he forced his eyes back up. Loving the slight blush of colour that his hungry look had caused he held out a hand, as John Paul reached him.

"Give me the keys, I'll go." His voice came out husky, needy. Fucking hell he had it bad. His only consolation was that John Paul was equally screwed. Sensing hesitation, Craig raised his eyebrows. John Paul shuffled a little beneath the questioning look, before grinning meaningfully.

"I errr have a few things in the car...a surprise for later that I don't want you to see."

Shit. His cock reacted. Grabbing a fistful of shirt he pulled John Paul in closer, letting him feel what his words had done to him. He growled, low and soft. "I could order you fucking home right now, McQueen. Screw the party...screw later!"

The subtle dominance in the words made John Paul shiver. "Except we're not at work now...sir. So you can order all you like, doesn't mean I'll listen." Leaning forwards, never taking his eyes from the smouldering brown ones before him, he defiantly bit down on Craig's bottom lip.

The challenge was deliberate and Craig's eyes narrowed dangerously.

The sound of Spike dramatically clearing his throat cut through the sexual tension and had them both reluctantly glancing his way. His pained 'must you' expression made them both laugh.

"Okay I'm going...won't be long." John Paul brushed his lips over Craig's slightly parted ones, a satisfied smile on his mouth at the soft moan only he got to hear. Winking at Spike he walked away.

"Shit, I hate you, you lucky bastard." Spike's petulant whine brought Craig back to reality. Grinning he threw his arm around the other's shoulder and steered him purposefully towards the bar.

"Yeah, yeah...join the queue. Now come on I owe you a drink."

It was almost half an hour later when Craig started to give into the sense that something was wrong. John Paul should have been back by now. Scanning the crowds he tried to tell himself he was being stupid, paranoid, but a sick feeling was creeping through him. "Something's not right." His whispered words carried towards Spike who gave him a searching look. Not bothering to explain he started to push himself through the crowds, Spike following close behind.

When they reached the dark stillness of the parking lot, Craig's heart was a tight pain in his chest. He knew he was probably being fucking ridiculous but it didn't stop the gut wrenching fear.

"John Paul." The sound of his own voice echoed back at him as he shouted through the shadows. "For fuck's sake...John Paul."

"There's no way he'd just disappear...I bet he just went to get something." Spike tried to offer reassurance but the almost feral look he got back had him falling silent.

"He's not upstairs and his car's still here...so you tell me what he fucking went to get?" Desperately Craig's

eyes scoured the rows of parked cars. "John Paul." His fear and frustration clear in his voice, he suddenly stopped dead as his eyes fell on a set of car keys on the ground. In all of his years as a detective he had never been afraid to face up to any scenario that he had stumbled into...but right now his head was screaming at him to not notice the discarded keys, to not notice the sticky red substance that coated them. What he didn't notice, couldn't be there, right? Instead he forced himself to find the empty place inside himself that he inhabited whilst tackling the worst of his job, the place where his emotions couldn't follow. Stepping forward, he instinctively pulled a tissue out from his pocket and bent down to reach for the keys. His face was like a death mask as he turned haunted eyes back up to Spike, the paleness of his skin a stark contrast to the bright red of the blood that coated the tissue in his hand.

"They're his...They're John Paul's keys!"